Wish Fullfillment
by tiger-kitty-367
Summary: OC P.O.V, but don't worry not a selfinsertion or MarySue hate those. Basically about a new girl at the Xmansion w scary mutation. I've reworked all the chapters for story continuity, so a lot of things are changed. Will be finished soon!
1. New York

Okay, this is my first X-men fanfiction so go easy on me. As a recent fan, I don't know much about the X-universe, only what I've seen in the two movies and managed to glean off the internet. So, to compensate, I've tried to stick to the most basic details about the X-men and not rely _too_ heavily on the movies, which I know have changed lots of things quite a bit. If something seems off to you, please put it under artistic license and try to enjoy my story just the same. If I get good reviews, I'll try to continue this story. If I don't… well, I think I'll still try. But it'll be more fun if I get reviews, cuz then I can make it better. So feel free to offer constructive criticism! D

Diclaimer: I think it's obvious but here we go anyway. The X-men don't belong to me, and never will. The only characters that belong to me are the girl from whose point of view I write (you'll get her name later) and the assorted little people she meets along the way.

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I never thought it would happen to me. I never even _thought_ about it. Sure, I knew about them. They were on the news all the time. Those freaks with weird powers; those mutants.

"Ouch!" I yelp sharply as the subway lurches beneath my feet and the large man standing next to me steps on my toe. I glare at his back, until he turns around and leers at me. Heart pounding, I wisely drop my eyes. This is New York. Better follow the rules of the jungle, or you are bound to get hurt.

Breathing deeply to calm my pulse, my thoughts drift back to me. What was I doing here, alone and totally helpless, home and safety thousands of miles away? Biting my lip, I try to keep the tears from my eyes. This too is a rule of the jungle; tears are apt to be taken as a sign of weakness, and before you know it, you've just been mugged. But it's hard not to cry.

Again, I focus on my breathing, this time to keep my feelings from overflowing. I find my calm center, and the tears fade, but the anxiety remains. Honestly, what _can_ I hope to accomplish here?

I notice than my stop is coming up and readjust the strap of my messenger bag across my chest. The bag barely holds a change of clothes and some toiletries, but I had no choice. I had to pack light.

I get off the subway and sit on a bench, trying t gather my scattered thoughts and formulate _some_ sort of plan.

Ok. Breathe. Breathe. In… hold it… and out. Repeat.

How long I sit there, just breathing in an out, I don't know, but when I open my eyes again I feel better. My breathing exercises were taught to me by my mother… and they're more or less all I have left of her.

Reaching into my pocket, I pull out a half eaten energy bar and munch on it, distractedly pulling my jacket more snuggly around me against the chill of the night air coming from the stairs leading to the streets above.

Let's review the facts. I am a 16-year old girl. I'm alone in a strange city- heck, in a strange _state_, and have absolutely no one in the world. I have a little over $40 in change, which has to last me… well, as long as possible. I've been on the road for, oh, about 2 weeks. And let me tell you, that has been _more_ then enough to last me a lifetime. _Two_ lifetimes. Lastly, and probably most importantly of all, I am a mutant.

I close my eyes again, but this time it's because I'm suddenly weary. It still hurts to say it, to think it. I'm a mutant. One of _them_. A freak. My mutation is… God, I don't even know what it is. I've thought about it many times, but I can't seem to figure it out.

Everyone makes wishes, right? They'll say 'I wish I had a million dollars' or 'I wish I never gained any weight'. Silly wishes, stupid wishes… all kinds. We all do it. Well, I used to make wishes like that too.

And then one day, my wish came true. I won the lottery. It didn't matter that I hadn't bought a ticket, or that I wasn't old enough to play or redeem the prize. I wished that I could win the lottery (I hadn't even been serious), and the next day I found the winning lottery ticket in my jean pocket. I gave it to my mom, she claimed the prize, and that was that. My first official wish.

It was exciting at first. Sometimes my wishes came true, and sometimes they didn't. People started coming to my house, asking to make a wish. And I'd do it. It was fun. Sure, there was no guarantee of success, but their wishes were _so_ good. I wished away three brain tumors (two of them inoperable) and at least ten cases of AIDS. I felt so good.

People called me miracle girl. They called me an angel.

I take another bite of my energy bar without opening my eyes and chew slowly. But people are never satisfied. More kept coming. My mom hired private security to keep the house from being overrun. And still wishes kept pouring in. The more I gave, the greedier everybody got. And as if that wasn't enough, dangerous wishes started coming to me as well. Wishes of revenge and retribution. Of murder and deceit. You'd think people would be embarrassed about wishing about stuff like that to a 16 year old, but they weren't. I wasn't a person anymore. I was an object, a tool to be used. It's not like I was human.

I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to remember it… and I can't. My memory stops abruptly, and picks up two weeks ago, when I found myself in a hotel room in Kansas. From what I can deduce, I made a wish about two weeks ago, my last wish. I don't know what it was, or why I made it, but somehow I know that my mother is gone, somewhere I can't wish her back from, and that I can never return to my old life.

I feel a tap on my shoulder and I spring up, clutching the strap of my back protectively.

"Woah, easy!" says the man who tapped me, hands held in the air and a strange smile on his face. "I just wanted to see if you were ok." He put his hands down, deciding, I guess, that I wasn't going to freak out. "_Are_ you ok?"

I try not to fidget as I shrug. "I'm fine. Just zoned out for a bit." I try to move past him, but he uses on hand to block me.

"Hey, what's the rush? You look like you could use some help…"

My heart hammering against my ribs again, beating so hard I can feel it in my throat and behind my eyes. As Buffy would say, I feel my Spider-sense tingling.

"Nah, I'm cool. Just on my to see my aunt."

The man looks me over, and I notice a calculating quality in his gaze. This man is definitely not someone I can dally with. I watch him under lowered lashes, doing my best not to let on how tense I've suddenly become. He is in his late 30's and he's pretty well-muscled. I'm not quite sure why I feel threatened, but I do, so I decided to trust my instincts. I try to look him in the eyes fearlessly, but I'm afraid, and I think he knows it. Thank god we're not alone in the station.

I try again, my voice persuasive and light. "Sure. I mean, come on. Would someone really travel _this_ light if they didn't have somewhere to go?" I look at my watch, feigning surprise. "And I really gotta go now, or she's gonna kill me. I was supposed to be at her house 20 minutes ago."

I walk past him with authority, and he lets me pass. My guess is either he'll look for easier prey, or perhaps he was genuinely the helpful kind. Even as I consider this thought however, I find myself unable to believe it. In this world, you don't get something for nothing, and that's a lesson no wished memory-wipe can erase.

The cold night air nips at my nose and my fingers, but it feels good going into my lungs. I set off down the street at a brisk walk, stretching my (kinda short) legs. There are people on the sidewalk, so I know it's not _too_ late.

I smile slightly as I hurry along, keeping to the well-lighted streets. Little did that man in the subway station know that I have no idea what time twenty minutes ago I was supposed to meet my "aunt" because my watch hasn't worked since I… left home.

After a few blocks, I hail a taxi and ask the cabby how much it would cost me to get to… I glance at the scrap of paper I've been folding and re-folding nervously for the past week. My hope.

"1407 Graymalkin Lane, Salem Center, Westchester County, New York," I say clearly, my voice only slightly trembling.

The cabby turns around, resting his elbow on the back on his seat. "For you sweetheart, I'll take you there for $60."

My heart sinks, and I bite my lip. "All right. Take me there." I lean back in my seat, but the cabby's short bark of laughter makes me jump.

"Girly, I weren't born yesterday. You look hard up, and for such a long trip, I have to insist on cash first. No money, no ride."

I take the twenty and two tens out of my pocket, smoothing them nervously. I hate my gift, and it hurts to use it. Obviously, my early abuse has strained it more than I can bear. But I have to risk the head-splitting pain if I'm going to get anywhere. I have no choice. As I hand him the bills, I wish that the bills I give him will be $60 instead of $40.

He chuckles and pockets the bills without a word. I let my held breath out slowly and rest my forehead against the somewhat fogged up window. As he pulls away from the curb, I can feel the tension creep up from the back of my brain, and pretty soon my blood is roaring in my ears as an enormous pressure pounds inside my skull. I grit my teeth, making as little noise as possible. Thankfully, the cabby turns his radio on, giving me a little cover.

An agonizing hour later, I start to feel the pain recede. My body is stiff as I force my muscles to unclench. I guess this wasn't my final wish. I smile ruefully as I contemplate the irony of what had just happened. For lack of $20, I had just spent the last hour wondering if it would _be_ my last hour. $20 dollars, for my life.

We're out of the city now, and I can see the stars better. As I look into twinkling expanse, I suddenly feel as if I cannot keep my eyes open. I know I shouldn't sleep, that I should stay awake and make sure he takes me where I need to go, but I can't. My eyes are fluttering, closing, opening, closing… pretty soon I can't open them again, and I know I'm falling asleep.

Finding it hard to care anymore, I hug my bag close to me and let sleep overcome my senses.


	2. What now?

When I wake up, I find the cabby parking in front of a large gate. I sit up from the seat where I'd laid down at some point in my sleep, and rub my eyes.

"We're here?"

"Yep." He looks at it doubtfully. All we can see is the front gate an a lot of dark shrubbery. Glancing at the digital clock on the dashboard, I find that it's 1:23 in the morning.

"Thanks a lot," I say as I shoulder my bag an open the door. Before I slam it shut, the cabby seems to have a sudden ping of concern.

"Hey, you sure this is where you're supposed to be?"

I nod, smiling reassuringly, even though underneath my smile is the sick feeling of being totally in the dark about what to do next. "Yeah, this is the place. It's a school, and my older sister goes here. I'm visiting," I lie easily, no longer surprised at how good I've become at giving pat answers. "Good night."

"Good night missy," he says, giving me a shadow of a smile. I slam the door and he pulls away. Within minutes, I can't see the red glare of his tail-lights on the road anymore and I assume he's turn a corner.

Pulling off one of the many rubber bands I wear on my wrist, I tie my shoulder length hair out of my face and face the gate, my shoulders squared. I'm sure there's an easier way to do this, but at 1:30 in the morning, everyone is bound to be asleep, and I'd rather spend the night on the grounds, rather than out on the road.

The gate looks un-climbable to me, but the walls on either side don't look so hard. There are chinks in it I think I can use as handholds, and I attack the task with all my heart.

Half an hour later however, I'm forced to change my opinion. The wall doesn't look _that_ high, but trying to scale it is like trying to scale the friggin' Great Wall of China. Those chinks I'd been looking at earlier… completely useless. About halfway up, they disappear entirely. I also notice what looked to be little lasers sweeping the very top of the wall, which discourages me even more. Standing back where I started, I think hard on what to do next. Obviously, I should've known the security of the school would be pretty tight. I mean, this place is kind of painting a bull's eye for all the mutant-fearing military buffs to aim at.

I sit down for a moment, gathering my wits and taking a little break. I'm hungry, I'm sweaty, and I'm extremely tired.

The lulling temptation to make a wish is always in the back of my mind, but I'm afraid. Whatever my mutation, I have the sneaking suspicion that it isn't normal, even for mutant standards. Either way, I don't think I can risk it. Not only is my wishing ability somewhat flakey, I also never know if it might be my last.

"Fuck,' I curse suddenly, realization dawning on me. Instead of wishing to turn the $40 into $60, I could've wished myself inside the gates. I could've wished myself here days ago.

Arghh! I'm angry at myself now, and it isn't helping me any. I calm myself down by reminding myself that a wish as big as that might've killed me, that it might have worked in a way I wouldn't have liked. Wishes are temperamental like that, and I can't really control them or the way they are fulfilled. The bigger the wish, the less I know what will happen.

Giving myself a mental kick, I get up and dust the seat of my jeans off. I'll head to the nearby town I saw on the drive here and rest there until morning. I'm sure there's a nice dark corner I can camp out in, someplace warm.

A sudden gust of wind, light but freezing cold, makes me aware that I really _am_ cold. I start walking.


	3. Hank's bar

I walk into the town's closest bar roughly a half hour later. At least I think it's been half an hour. Glancing at the clock I finally spot hanging on one dingy wall, I nod slightly. Yep. It's now 2:30 a.m.

I sit at the empty bar and slump slightly. I'm just _so_ tired. If I had thought I was tired before, now I felt like I was a hair's breadth from passing out completely.

"Hey," says the bartender, wiping a glass with a clean rag. "Excuse me kid, but I'm closing for the night."

I look up, disappointment making me light-headed. "Really? Damn," I mutter. I give the bartender a small smile. Throughout my travels, I've noticed people are a lot more inclined to be helpful if one smiles at them. "I was wondering why you were open so late, but I guess you aren't."

He shrugs. "This is a pretty small town, so I know most of my regulars well. I stay open as long as people come in." He puts down the clean glass and picks up another, eyeing it critically before starting to wipe it. "But I don't think I'll be getting any more tonight, so I'm closing now."

I get off my stool wearily. "I see." Looking at him uncertainly, I make my fingers quite their fidgeting. Stupid nervous habit. "Do you suppose- I mean, do you think you might let me spend the night here, if I help you clean up and stuff? Whatever you need?"

He looks me up and down, but somehow, I don't feel the way I felt when the man in the subway station did the same thing. "You in trouble kid?"

I shake my head. "Nah. Just kind of stuck for the moment. I promise you, I _have_ somewhere I'm going. It's just a little too early to go there." I shift my weight slightly. "I'll be gone in the morning, I promise. It's just kinda chilly to sleep out again."

The bartender nods slowly. "I own the place, so it's my decision." He puts the glass he's been wiping down, along with the rag, and leans on the counter of the bar. "As long as you're not in any sort of trouble, I'll say ok. Sweep up, wipe the counter and the tabletops, wash a few glasses and we'll call it even." He nodded in the direction of a rather saggy couch. "You can rest on that. It's not the best of accommodations, but you're only staying here the one night, so I doubt it'll break your back."

The man is kind, but I read the warning in his words. He's offering me a place to stay, but I'm firmly a temporary guest. I smile in agreement and take my bag off, laying it on my stool. "Ok. Just tell me where to find the broom and I'll have this place clean in a jiffy."

He shows me where the cleaning supplies are kept, and get to work. I finish quickly, realizing that the bartender knew there wasn't that much to be done and that he had just wanted to make me feel less like a charity case.

"Thanks again for letting me stay here tonight," I say again as he locks of the register and make sure the windows are secured.

"No problem. I was young once too, and I know what it's like to be on the road and alone." He hands me a blanket, and laughs at my surprised look. "You're not the first person to spend the night on my couch. Regulars too drunk to drive home and too ashamed to call a ride have often slept it off here."

I thank him, feeling like a broken record but really meaning it. "My name's Wish," I say suddenly. My cheeks redden, and I feel like an idiot. I don't know where that came from, or why I said it. My real name isn't Wish at all, it's Abigail. A nice, normal, human name. But I haven't been Abigail for a while now.

"Wish? That's a strange name," he says, putting his coat on.

I nod. "Yes, but it's mine." I don't know why I decided to call myself Wish, but now that I have, I can feel the rightness of it.

"My name's Hank." He smiles and wraps his scarf around his throat. "Have a good night Wish. I'll be by at around 1:00."

"Ok. Thanks." I sit on the couch. "Good night," I call out as he leaves, and I hear him say the same as the door closes and he locks it.

Finally alone, I make myself as comfortable as I can on the couch. I took a shower two days ago in the last motel I'd stayed at, and I'm starting to yearn for a shower again. I don't smell too badly yet (thank god for small miracles) but I feel very gross and dirty. Traveling can do that to a person.

"If all goes well, by tomorrow night I'll at least have had a shower." I close my eyes and wonder what it'll be like. The place I'm heading… it's a school for mutants. My mother- I can remember her face if I concentrate, was contacted by the head of the school in the early days of my mutation. She calmly ignored him though, and said there was nothing wrong with me.

I secretly kept the address however, thinking it might come in handy someday. The more I think about my past, the more uneasy I feel. My memories of childhood and growing up are solid, but the closer I get to the my memory blank, the more the things I can recall seem to waver, like a mirage in the heat. I burn to know what happened two weeks ago, what happened to my mother and why I've been traveling to New York so single-mindedly. But for the moment, what I want most of all is to rest, and be safe. I feel as if my life has only begun two weeks ago, which is as far back as I can account as real, and I haven't had a moment's peace since. Maybe someday soon, I'll be able to find out what exactly happened. For now, I have enough on my plate. I close my eyes and sleep.


	4. A ride from a stranger

As soon as I wake up, I know I've overslept. Hank is already at the bar, taking the stools down and setting things up. He glances up when he hears me stir.

"You're awake then. Good."

Feeling like something died in my mouth, I get up and go to the bathroom. Taking a quick look at my reflection in the mirror, I suddenly feel like crying. Back when I was Abigail, I had always thought of myself as a pretty girl. I firmly remember being told on many occasions that I looked just like my mother, who had been gorgeous when she was my age.

My trembling hand reaches up to touch my face slowly. Where my skin had been perfectly fair and flawless before, like a golden peach, it was now at least two shades darker, and I had a long thin scar down the side of one temple. I seemed to have acquired freckles from somewhere as well. My hair is foreign to me as well. I know for certain that I had always been a natural blonde before. My hair now looked like patchwork quilt of different colors- blonde, ginger, chestnut- it's all in there. As if I hadn't been able to make up my mind which color I wanted to dye it.

_Did I dye my hair at some point?_ I wonder silently as I stare at my face. I haven't had time to look at my reflection since I left, and the two motels I've stayed at on my way here were both lacking functional mirrors. I notice that my eyes are weird too…. One eye is hazel and the other is blue.

_I look like a freak_ I think glumly, going back into the bar and picking up my bag.

"I'll be on my way now," I say, smiling for Hank's benefit. "Thanks for everything."

He nods. "You're very welcome." I notice him check out my bizarre hair color, now that it's daylight and he can see me better. "Is that a new trend?"

I shrug. "I wanted to be different," I lie. "Why pick one color when you can have them all?"

He mumbles something noncommittal and I realize he is trying not to offend me with his lack of enthusiasm.

"Don't worry Hank, different strokes for different folks and all that. I'm not offended." I laugh a little. "I don't think you have enough hair for this style anyway."

He laughs, running his hand over his scraggly thin hair. "Yeah, it's not as thick as it once was."

Glancing at the clock on the wall which reads 2:00, I say good-bye and leave Hank's Bar. Once outside, I stop for a moment and try to get my bearings. Last night, it was pretty dark when I came, so everything looks different, but pretty soon I recall the direction the school was in.

I set out, ignoring the rumble of my stomach and the nausea that comes from having skipped way too many meals. The fact that today is an unusually bright day doesn't help either.

As I trudge along the side of the small road, I run my hand self-consciously through my hair. I wouldn't say I'm a very vain girl, but I feel conspicuous and out of place with my freakish new appearance.

"But then, Wish _is_ a freak, so it all fits together," I say aloud, just to hear the sound of my voice. That, at least, has not changed, and I find it rather comforting.

A few minutes later however, I'm forced to stop and take a break. My sneakers have been rubbing at the back of my ankles for the past week, and while my socks protected the skin for a while, today the rubbing has finally created large painful welts. I take my socks off to examine my feet and suck my breath in sharply as I touch them lightly with my fingers. The blisters on the backs of my ankles have popped, and they are oozing… whatever it is blisters ooze. They sting too much to put my socks back, so I just put my shoes on barefoot.

I get up and start walking again, and immediately I know I can't walk like this. If I step very very carefully, I can keep my shoes out of contact with my ankles, but the moment I pick up any speed, the rubbing makes walking unbearable. I sit down in the dirt again, tears of discouragement in my eyes.

For want of a nail, the shoe was lost; for want of a shoe, the horse was lost; for want of a horse the rider was lost; for want of a rider the battle was lost; for want of the battle the war was lost, and for the want of that war, the kingdom was lost. In short, for want of one little nail, an entire kingdom was lost. Feeling like this describes my problem exactly, I rack my brains on what to do next. I can't walk at all like this… the only think I can do, is continue the journey barefoot.

Steeling my resolve, I'm about to take off my shoes and continue my painful walk when I hear what sounds like an engine coming up behind me. I stand up gingerly and look back, putting my hand up to block the glare of the sun.

As the cyclist comes over the hill, I quickly discover that the engine belongs to a motorcycle, not a car. I debate whether to stick my thumb out and beg a ride; after taking a few experimental steps again, my decision is swift. I stick my thumb out and wait, hope blossoming in my chest as the motorcyclist slows down, and finally stops next to me.

The rider is without a helmet and wearing a distressed leather jacket and tight faded blue-jeans. Tired and road-weary as I am, his amazing physique still makes an incredible impression on me. He is broad shouldered and muscular. From what I can see, his legs look well-defined and powerful, but not very long, which makes me guess he probably isn't too tall.

I'm speechless as I take him in until he arches one eyebrow at me. "Need a ride kid?" he asks gruffly, and I almost swoon.

Blaming it on hunger and weariness, I nod silently. His face is as good to look at as his body, and despite my best attempts to keep my cool I find myself flushing. _Idiot girl! Tell him where you're going!_ my wiser, more mature inner self chides, but I can't seem to find my voice.

His hair is dark and rather wild, and he has scruffy mutton chops that I wouldn't have believed could ever look good on a person if I hadn't met him. His eyes are dark and piercing, and he has little lines between his eyes brows, as if his face is usually set in a scowl. Despite those lines however, I get the feeling that he's nicer than he looks, and I give into the trust that has blossomed in my hammering chest. I clear my throat quickly, suddenly aware that I've been standing there, mute, like a dumb idiot for at least 10 seconds now.

"I'm going here," I say, reading off the address of the school from my little paper scrap.

His eyebrows go up as he hears the address. "Really?" He gives me a long look, and what could me the ghost of a smile. "Climb on, I'm going there myself."

"Thank you," I manage to rasp out as I climb on behind him, wrapping my arms around his middle. Again, my traitorous hormones insist on noticing how rock hard his stomach is, how good his leather jacket feels against my cheek, and how appealing his hair smells, like rain and forest and… wild things.

"Hold on kid," he growls back at me as he revs the motorcycle, and before I can reply, we're whipping down the road so fast tears come to my eyes. I close them and tuck my head down, finding it easier to breath now that the air around isn't whipping by so fast I can't draw it in.

As we speed along, I wonder musingly what a man like this is doing at a school for mutants. While I'm sure the school's mutant status isn't advertising to non-mutants for fear of becoming a total target for hate crimes, I have to wonder if there are any normal humans there. Perhaps this man doesn't know about the nature of the place. _Or maybe he does. Maybe he's a mutant too… he might even be a teacher!_ I smile to myself as I get an image of him in a classroom, the badass leather jacket and motorcycle replaced by pressed slacks and a collared shirt.

This is all I have time to think about before we arrive, faster than I'd thought possible. The gates open for us without pause, and I wonder how he did it, not having felt him pressing a remote control or anything. Then I remember the motion detectors that I had seen on top of the wall last night. That must be it.

We pull up in front of the main building and he kills the engine. Swinging his leg over the bike, he gets off and turns to me. "Is the Professor expecting you?" he asks gruffly.

I don't know who the Professor is, so I shake my head quickly as I scramble off the bike and trot after him as he starts walking away. Now that I'm here, all my courage has drained out of me. I don't want to be left by myself.

"What are you doing kid?" he asks me suddenly, turning around.

"I- I don't know where to go," I stutter nervously.

He sighs, and I feel even more embarrassed as it suddenly occurs to me that this man is probably impatient to see someone.

"I'm sorry, I'm sure you have better things to do. I'll find my way if you'll just point me in the right direction," I say quickly. My attempt to mask my fear is lost on him, however, because he doesn't say anything, just turns back and starts walking to the large building we stopped in front of.

"Come on kid, I'll take you to his office," he says, and I can detect no annoyance in his voice. Feeling stupid for feeling so glad that I haven't annoyed him, I catch up with him and fall into step beside him.

Once we're inside, I can't stop looking around me in wonder. This building seems less like a place where mutants reside, and more like an upscale boarding school. My stomach twists as I ponder the question of how much tuition must cost.

"Hey, relax kid, you'll be all right here," he says, as if reading my mind.

I glance at him quickly. "I guess I'm a little nervous. I've come a rather long way you see."

He nods. "I can tell."

"Do I have an accent or something?" I ask, having noticed that the people of New York speak differently than everyone else I'd met so far.

He stops in front of a pair of double-doors and I backtrack a little. As he turns the handle, he leans towards me a little and says in a low voice "No, I can smell it," before walking into the office.

Once more, I'm speechless. _Did he just tell me I smell bad?_ I think, a flash of annoyance fueled by embarrassment running across my mind. How rude! He may be handsome, and he may have helped me, but I feel a ping of dislike towards him as I follow him into the office.


	5. Getting aquainted

Time for an author's note! Thank you for your reviews, they were very encouraging.

In reply to Zenna, who asked me if the man who stopped Wish in the subway station was important- I don't think so. I'm not quite sure because the story is still young enough to go in any direction, but I seriously doubt he'll show up again.

In reply to Cermilla- thank you for saying that I don't deserve flames. It's a big confidence booster. As for Terry Pratchett and "Witches Abroad", no, I'm afraid I've never heard of the author or the book. I'll look them up tho, since this is the second time I'm come across that name in the last week. Maybe it's a sign? P

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this chapter and thank you for your reviews!

Discliamer:X-men don't belong to me… yadda yadda yadda….. the main character however, does…. Yadda yadda yadda. I think the point is pretty clear. If the x-men don't belong to me right now, then they sure didn't belong to me last chapter, or the one before that!

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Once inside the office, I stand in front of the large desk silently, unsure of what to say. The man behind the desk is looking at me curiously, as if he's trying to read my mind. After a few moments of silently taking each other in, he clears his throat.

" Welcome to my school for mutants. I am Charles Xavier, although the students simply call me Professor." He smiles at me kindly, and I start to feel less panicky.

"I'm Wish."

"Hello Wish," he says, and I'm surprised that he doesn't question my unusual name. "I understand you've come a long way."

"Yes, I have," I say, shooting the man I came in with a cool glance. "I've been traveling alone." He grunts softly, and I shift my gaze back to the Professor.

"Where are you from Wish?"

I open my mouth to reply, when I suddenly become aware that I don't exactly remember anymore, though I'm sure it was on the coast. "I-I'm not sure," I stutter. Racking my brains, and remembering that I was traveling west to east, I take a stab and guess. "California, I think?"

The Professor nods. "I'm glad you made it." Then, to my utter surprise, he wheels out from behind the desk, and I realize that the professor is an invalid. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks kindly, nodding in the direction of a large leather armchair. I sit.

"Logan, would you leave us please?" he says to my handsome motorcyclist. _So his name is Logan_ I think distractedly as Logan shrugs and leaves, tossing a 'See you later kid' at me before closing the door shut behind him.

The Professor smiles kindly at me. "Logan can be a little intimidating sometimes."

I shrug, trying not to betray the impression Logan has made on me. "He's all right. He did give me a ride, back on the road." I lean forward a little, impatient to get over the small talk. "Please sir, I'd really like to attend your school. Could I know how much it costs?"

"Wish," he asks gently, "Do your parents know where you are?"

My stomach lurches as the innocent question. "My parents aren't… here," I say finally, unsure of how to explain myself. It's hard to explain something, especially when one doesn't know the half of it themselves.

He looks at me, waiting for me to continue. I sigh, running a hand through my ugly hair nervously. "My father died while I was still young, and I don't know where my mother is."

"What happened to her?" I look up, into his eyes, and swallow nervously. He knows there's more to it than I'm telling him. I just know it.

"I think did something to her," I stammered quickly. "I don't know what, but I think it's my fault."

My hands are shaking and he surprises me by taking one of them in his. "Wish, you are safe here. My school is a non-profit organization for mutants, and we will do what we can to help you."

I let my breath out in a gust, relief making me want to cry. "Thank you," I choke out, blinking rapidly.

_ My power is telepathy, Wish. What's yours? _

My head snaps up as I hear his voice in my head. My eyes are wide and I fear my mouth is hanging open.

"Wow," I breathe, amazed. Then I realize he asked me a question. _I don't know exactly_ I think, wondering if he'll be able to hear me.

He does, but answers out loud. "What do you mean?"

I stare down at my hands. "I make things happen. Sometimes. By wishing for them." I look up. "Two weeks ago, I think made a wish for myself. I can't remember anything from before then, starting with a month or two after I discovered my… mutation. I think… I think I wished I wouldn't remember whatever happened, in between."

"Can you guess in any way what might have happened?"

I shake my head. "I can't, now can I? And what memories from even further back are becoming less and less real to me." I furrow my brow, my stomach clenching in fear. "If I did wish to forget something, and the wish worked…which obviously it did…. those memories should still remain, unaffected. I don't know anything anymore. I think my head's permanently screwed up."

The Professor leans back into his wheelchair. "Nonetheless, there is a place for you here, Wish. Would you like to remain?"

I nod my head gratefully. "I have nowhere else to go," I say, and it's the simple truth.

The Professor closes his eyes and seconds later Logan comes back into the room. "Wish," he says to me, as he wheels out of the room, "I have a class to teach now, but I'm sure I will be seeing you later, once you're all settled in."

The Professor leaves, and Logan turns to me. "Come on kid," he says to me in a not quite unfriendly way. "I don't have anything to do right now so I'll show you around."

"Thank you," I reply, unsure of why he would possibly want to waste his time with me, but definitely not complaining.


	6. Useful Gifts

"So what do you do here?" I ask conversationally as we walk down the quiet halls.

Logan shrugs. "I hang around, help when I'm needed. Mostly I train the students."

We walk past a few classrooms, if the comfortable rooms filled with eager students can be called that, and I'm amazed at how relaxed everyone seems to be. It's almost too perfect to believe.

"Training?" I say, just now hearing what he said.

"Mm-hmm," he says, leading me through a short little corridor. "This is the kitchen. It's stocked for student use. You can cook or eat whatever you want."

"Wow." I look around the well-organized and spotless kitchen. "Are you sure kids are allowed in here?"

Logan gives a little snort. "It looks clean now, but wait till you see it at lunch." He goes over to the fridge and grabs a coke. "Ain't nothing stronger than this," he replies to my raised eyebrow.

"Ahh, I see. Naturally."

We walk through the second floor of the mansion (which is what this grand house is) and I discover that it's all bedrooms, serving as a dormitory for the students and the teachers.

"Who funds all this?" My head feels dizzy from all the times I spin around, trying to take it all in.

"The Professor is a very wealthy man."

"Oh." It makes sense. Suddenly, a thought hits me. "Hey Logan," I say as we head back down the main stairway and out the front doors. I guess he's going to show me the grounds as well.

"Hmm?" He seems preoccupied, but I decide to ask anyway.

"If the Professor is a telepath, doesn't that mean he can read minds?"

We reach a bench underneath a big oak tree and Logan sits down, his long legs sprawled in front of him in a careless manner. "What of it kid?"

"Well," I say, sitting down beside him. "Why didn't he just read my mind then, instead of asking me all those questions?"

Logan turns to me, his face serious. "Would you have wanted him to? How would you feel about someone poking around in your mind without your permission?"

I bite my lip. I've offended him. "I wouldn't like it."

He takes a swig of his coke and nods. "Chuck's a good man. He respects people, genuinely cares about them."

I realize I still have my bag over my shoulder and take it off, setting it down by my feet. "Yeah, seems that way." I glance back towards the mansion. "What do you guys do here? It can't be just a school. It seems… more important somehow."

"For a kid, you notice a lot," says Logan, giving me what I've now decided must be a trademark Logan look. I feel slightly queasy. But in a good way. I think. "Some of the teachers here are part of a team called the X-men. I'm sure you've heard about it."

I nod. "On the news, sometimes. But not a whole lot is known."

Logan shrugs. "There isn't that much to know. We try to keep a war from exploding between humans an' mutants, stop the bad-guys whenever they pop up, and generally try to keep the peace."

"Cool." I look at Logan with new respect. "So you guys are kind of like superheroes, huh?"

Logan gives a derisive snort. "It's not as romantic as that, kid. We're just trying to do what's right; keep a lot of people from getting hurt."

I scowl at him. "I have a name you know. How would you like it if I called you 'Man' all the time?"

Logan flashes me a grin, which I can't help but note is very sexy. "I've been called worse. What do you want me to call you then?"

I shrug. "Wish will be fine."

"All right then, Wish. I think it's time to head back. Classes should be done for the day, and you should get used to everybody."

We start walking back. "Hey Logan," I say, breaking the silence.

He growls a little. "Jeez kid, you sure talk a lot."

"Sorry. And it's Wish." I look up at him. "What's your mutation? You don't look any different from normal people."

Logan snorts. "Most mutants don't." Suddenly, he brings his hand close to my neck, and I suck in my breath. Long silver claws have come out from between his knuckles, slicing through the skin, and I hear a soft 'snick' somewhere in the area of my collar . He moves his hand back, and I can see the claws withdrawing. "You had a loose thread on your jacket."

"Wow…" I try to collect myself. "That's intense." I must admit, I'm staring freely at his hands. "Does it hurt? When they come out?"

Logan face is serious. "Every time."

"Then why do you do it? Why not just keep them inside, so they don't hurt you?"

Logan gives me a long look, then speaks, his voice serious. "Listen, gifts are made to be used. My claws are useful; they protect the ones I love."

I nod quickly, somewhat unsettled by the sudden change in his demeanor. "Gotcha."

We walk the rest of the way back without speaking, but I'm beginning to feel the beginnings of warm fuzzy feelings toward Logan, this sexy, and kind of scary, man I've known less than a few hours.


	7. Rogue's Wish

As the weeks go by and I'm introduced to the other students at the school and settle in, I find myself expecting to wake up. It doesn't seem real, any of it. All these kids, with all these… powers. Not too long ago I would've drawn back in fear and distaste, considered them freaks.

_But I'm one of them now… and somehow they don't seem so freaky anymore._

Of all the students I've met, I'd probably say I like the one they call Rogue the most. I'm not sure if that's her real name, probably no more than Wish is mine, but somehow it's who she is. A lot of the kids, I've noticed, call themselves by names that have something in common with their powers, but just as many hold on to their normal names. Like Bobby and Kitty.

After dinner, I'm sitting on the couch between Rogue and Bobby, feeling stuffed as a turkey at Thanksgiving, when I realize Rogue is asking me a question.

"Sorry, what?" I ask, snapping myself out of my thoughts.

"Wow, you really were a million miles away," she says smiling. "I was asking you what your power was."

I shrug, doing my best to seem cool about the question. I should get used to it. "I'm not quite sure. I make things happen by wishing for them, sometimes. But it doesn't always work. And I get nosebleeds and headaches."

"Wow, that sounds really cool!" he says enthusiastically. "So you can wish for anything? Like a million dollars or a Porsche?"

I laugh at his enthusiasm. "I said it only works sometimes. And it really hurts after, if I get what I wished for."

Rogue makes a sympathetic sound. "I know what it's like to have a gift with drawbacks."

"What's yours?" I ask. I've only figured out the most obvious ones so far, and I can't find anything at all unusual about Rogue. Except maybe her outfit…

"I can absorb other mutant's powers by touching their skin," she says quietly.

"That doesn't sound so bad," I venture, sensing that it's not that simple.

Bobby is quiet next to me, and I almost regret asking. "I'm sorry, it's none of my business," I mumble, embarrassed.

Rogue shakes her head, the white streak in her hair fanning out over the rest of her hair, which is red. "Nah, s'okay. My gift is useful sometimes, but like yours, I can't really control it. And while it doesn't hurt me physically, it sucks the life out of whoever I touch."

"That must be really tough," I say sympathetically, instantly understanding why she wore opera gloves even through dinner.

Rogue nods, a slight teary sheen in her eyes. "I wish I could touch people without hurting them," she sighs wistfully.

As the words roll off her lips, I gasp, my heart starting to beat frantically. "Shut up," I choke out, knowing that it's too late and that she can't take back her wish and that I can't stop it. Pressure rolls out in waves in my head, building just behind my eyeballs. I slide off the couch and sink to my knees, clutching my head as my vision becomes blotchy and the pain reaches a crushing crescendo. I can vaguely feel someone's hands on my shoulders (Bobby's, I think, but the world is too far away to know for sure) and concerned voices all around me.

"Shut up!" I scream, feeling like my head's going to spilt with all the pressure inside it. My eyes roll back and I feel the world slip away from me. The last thing I feel as I fall to one side and my head connects with the carpeted floor is the ticklish sensation of blood trickling from my nose and over my lips.

When the darkness finally recedes, I can barely open my eyes. There is an unbearably harsh white light in my eyes and I can't see anything. My ears feel funny too, as if they're stuffed with cotton. I open my mouth, but my throat is too dry to do more than croak out a few quiet noises.

It's enough to attract attention however, because soon enough a woman's face comes into focus.

"How are you feeling?" she asks, smiling down at me. I notice that she's very pretty, with the most amazing red hair.

"Who- who are you?" I whisper hoarsely, swallowing a few times.

"I'm Jean," she says, checking something on her clipboard. "How's your head?"

I smile a little. Actually, except for the fuzzy vision and weird cotton-in-ears feeling, I feel fine. "It doesn't really hurt… but my ears are all funny. My eyes too."

She nods. "That's normal. We've had you on some pretty strong painkillers. You last dose was…" She checks her watch. "Three hours ago. It should be wearing off in another half hour."

"Ok." I close my eyes and sigh. "I did it again, didn't I? I granted a wish."

Even though my eyes are closed, I can almost see Jean's expression. "Yes Wish, you did."

My eyes are feeling more normal, so I open them again. "There's a catch isn't there? It wasn't completely what she wanted."

"No, you're right, it wasn't. Rouge can only touch without danger those she's touched before."

I look hard at Jean, and I realize it's the truth, but not the whole truth. "There's more, isn't there?" I feel sick with worry, but I have to know. I have to know what I've done. "Tell me. Please. I have to know…"

Jean sighs and I notice she can't look me in the eye. "Rouge's mutation has increased in potency. Before the wish, Rogue's touched sapped a mutant's powers and life force through skin contact lasting 10 seconds or more." Jean finally looks me in the eye. "Now Rogue's touch saps life almost instantaneously. The results are… quite deadly."

I can feel my eyes grow round and frightened as I process this last bit of information. "Deadly? Has there been- I mean- was someone-?" The question hangs in the air as I trail away.

Jean shakes her head, a reassuring smile on her lips. "No, everybody is allright. There was an incident with one of the lab rats Rogue was feeding but thankfully she only brushed the poor thing's tail, and the rat was merely stunned for a few hours." Her expression turned serious. "But it did illustrate how much more dangerous Rogue's touch has now become."

I close my eyes against the headache that is slowly returning, and I'm surprised when Jean touches my arm gently. "Wish, the professor and I have been talking about setting up a mental barrier in your mind… to protect you from people's wishes."

I open my eyes slightly. "I don't understand it. Usually I have to wish it myself… and even then it isn't a sure thing."

"Rogue has longed to be able to touch others without draining them ever since her gift manifested itself. Perhaps…. that made her wish very powerful."

"I wish I could've stopped it somehow," I say, leaning back into my pillow. My head is pounding now, and I believe Jean picks up on it because she hands me some pills without a word. I watch her turn, and before she closes the curtain around my bed she gives me a warm smile. _Strange_ I think, as I drift off, _that I should have found such nice people despite everything._


	8. Waking Up

Disclaimer: X-men will never be mine…. But at least I can play with it! Wish is mine though, as is the idea of her mutation.

The following morning, with Jean's approval, I leave my bed and head up to the Professor's office. I knock lightly on his door but it's hardly necessary; after all, the man is a telepath.

"Come in," he says as I open the door and step into his office. I've been here less than a month and already I feel a bond starting to form between myself and this unexpectedly sensitive gentleman. _Indeed, he even has a gentleman's manner._ I take no pains to conceal this thought from him, and I see his mouth twitch at the corners as he receives my mental compliment. He motions to one of the chairs opposite his desk and I sit down, making myself relatively comfortable. I still feel kind of weird from the painkillers.

"Jean told me- about Rogue… I really don't know how it happened," I suddenly say, my voice sincere. I'm not quite secure here yet, and I am so afraid I'll be kicked out for using my power. Which is silly, because this is probably one of the few places its _ok_ to be a mutant. Old habits die hard, I guess.

"Don't be afraid Wish… you did not do anything consciously or with the intention to hurt. The same precautions Rogue took to ensure others' safety from her mutation are still effective now, and indeed, her burden is a little lighter now that she can have contact with a select few. You're not in any trouble, and indeed I want to impress on you that exploring your power as much as you safely can is highly encouraged here. You shouldn't be afraid of what you can do, and the more you learn about yourself, the more control you'll have." He smiles at me reassuringly, and I smile back. I really, really like this man, so I decide to be honest.

"I am afraid. Honestly, this last wish nearly made my head explode." I shake my head, hugging myself. "I'm terrified, expecting every time my power comes out to be my _last_ time."

"Jean and I have been discussing this issue while you were unconscious. We think the reason you reacted to strongly to Rogue's wistful wish was because you identified with her. Do you feel a closeness?"

"Well… she _is_ one of the first people I met here…, besides Logan and yourself. I guess she's my first friend."

Professor Xavier nodded. "All this predisposed you to a strong empathic link with her, and if I'm not mistaken, your wishes have always been more likely to occur if you sympathized with the wisher."

I shrug. "Yeah, from what I can remember, it _did_ help if I truly believed in what I was wishing for. But it always had to be me wishing… I've never fulfilled a wish that wasn't my own before. I mean, imagine what it would be like if every time someone said 'I wish' within my hearing range and I made it happen. I'd be dead by now!"

"Perhaps the reason for this unusual fulfillment is that it was made in a place where you had your natural mental barriers down, as people tend to do when making new friends."

This makes sense to me, but it's also very worrisome. "So I'll have to always be withdrawn from people, to prevent it from happening again? I can't ever really share myself with anyone then, can I?"

"Not exactly. I believe that with practice, you can achieve control over your mutation, and maybe even over how it works, although that part is highly complicated. I have never before heard of a mutation that affected the fabric of reality before."

"Oh. So… what can I do? To protect myself and my friends?"

"Jean and I can place an artificial barrier in your mind to keep you from being affected by the desires of those around you."

I sigh in relief, leaning back into my chair. Thank god. The professor isn't done yet though, and his words of caution slice through my relief as easily as a hot knife through butter.

"Nevertheless, our barrier is still artificial, and given enough time, your mind _will_ wear it away. So you _must_ try to learn to control it naturally as much as you can."

I ignore the last part. "Can't you make it stronger?" I ask earnestly, leaning forward in my chair. "Can't you make it permanent?"

Professor Xavier shakes his head. "It would be easier that way, but it is never wise to alter a person's mind unnecessarily. And it is not safe either."

I stand up, twisting my hands in anxiety. "I'll do my best. But it'd be great if we can get the block up before I go back to everyone. I _will_ try my best to control myself though."

He nods. "That's all we ask." The professor closes his eyes briefly, and seconds later Jean Grey comes in. I guess they communicate something to each other wordlessly, because seconds later I find myself dismissed from the office.


	9. What is a wish anyways?

As I make my way downstairs to the common room where the big-tv resides (which makes it a popular spot), I find myself wondering what they'll think of me now. Will I be a freak, even among the mutant population? Will they hate me? Will they fear me? Preoccupied as I am, I'm not really looking where I'm going and I bump hard into someone.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry!" I say, looking up from the floor where I came down rather loudly on my rear. Not very graceful.

"I'd wondered where you'd got yourself off to," growls the familiar gruff voice of Logan.

My mouth is hanging open as I blush what must be a very vibrant scarlet hue. "Logan-" I manage to choke out. "You're back!"

He shrugs, giving me another dashing little grin as he offers me a hand up. I taking with a slight tremble, which I pray to god he doesn't notice. Logan had left a few days after my arrival, and I'd been quite disappointed. "I just couldn't stay away," he deadpans, making my heart flutter once more. All my thoughts of Rouge and her wish have been pushed aside, but as soon as I realize it, they come rushing back.

"I have to go talk to Rogue…" I say slowly, working hard to keep the wobble out of my voice, What will Logan think of me when he finds out what I've done? The thought makes me feel even sicker.

"Sure kid, I was just talkin' to her myself. She's in there, glued to that damn tv." He started up the stairs, leaving me alone with what I'm about to face.

_Allright Wish. Courage. She'll understand, just like the professor did._ Not really believing myself, I make my legs obey me and I walk into the common room. It's full of students, as I expected, and mostly people's eyes are glued to the tv. I don't know how, but the moment I walk in, Rogue glances at the door way and sees me standing there. I freeze.

It seems like a long time passes, but I know it's only been a couple seconds when she smiles at me. "Wish! Come sit here!" she whispers loudly. I nod and I may my way over to her, where she's made a spot for me next to her on the floor.

"How are you?" she asks me quietly.

"I'm fine," I say, surprised. "I feel I should be asking you that. Jean told me… what happened. I'm sorry Rogue."

Rogue squeezes my shoulder with a gloved hand. "No, I'm sorry. You nearly died because I wasn't careful with my words." Her smile turns to a grin. "'Sides… it's not all bad. Yeah, I still can't touch anybody I want, but at least I can touch _somebody_ now."

I grin back, catching her drift. "Like…. Bobby?" I whisper back, giving her a gentle poke in the ribs.

Rogue flushes and shushes me, and we both let the subject drop as we turn our attention back to the TV show playing. I don't really pay attention to what's going on because of all the thoughts in my head. It sounds cloche to even think it, but I feel so happy I think I could die. I have a home, and friends- even a sort of family one could say. Despite my mutation, I feel a little like a normal person again.

My smile falters when I think of my mother, but I push the thought from my head and try to forget my guilt, if only for the moment.

After the demonstration of my mutation with Rogue, it becomes commonly taboo to use the phrase "I wish" within my hearing range, or even at all. I attend classes with everyone else, and I room with Rogue and Kitty.

Instead of going to Danger Room sessions however, I have private sessions with the Professor.

"See you later Wish," says Kitty as she and Rogue leave for training. I wave bye. "Laters."

Minutes later I'm settling myself into "my" chair in the Professor's study. "So… I've been thinking. About how my mutation works."

He nods encouragingly at me. "And?"

"Well… what I do basically changes reality, doesn't it? It's not really just perception or point of view that I affect, which might be termed illusion, it's the actual physical plane that changes." Wow…. I sound so brainy! My talks with Jean must really be rubbing off on me.

The Professor catches this last thought and his smile twitches a bit. "Yes… that is correct. You transform matter through the force of your will, concentrated in the form of a wish."

He offers me a jar of Twizzlers, our preferred candy for these talks, and I take a few gratefully.

"Well," I say as I chew on the end of a Twizzler. "What if it has something to do with the time-space continuum?"

The Professor looks at me strangely. "Wish, do you know anything of quantum theories?"

"No, not at all. But Rogue and Kitty and I were talking about alternate realities after watching a movie the other day, and I got this crazy thought in my head. What if there _are_ alternate realities, and my mutation is creating them?"

"It's no easy feat to create an alternate reality Wish. If every time your mutation was used another reality was created, I don't know how you'd still be alive."

I ponder this. I don't exactly know why, but I'm sure I'm on the right track. And if alternate realities is what I'm dealing with… then there might be a way to find my mother. I shut these hopeful thoughts away in a corner and try to focus on the matter at hand. "Well… what if they aren't permanent alternate realities? What if they're like small offshoots of the line of time that blend back into that line as soon as the wish is fulfilled?"

He doesn't say anything, so I continue thinking aloud. "I mean, there's no real way to know, but if time is a straight path, and what I do is make small pockets along the way that change things to my wishes, maybe…. Maybe some things are reversible?"

"Like your mother and the memory wipe?" he says softly, and I look down at the Twizzlers in my lap, tears stinging my eyes.

"Yes, like my mom," I whisper. More than anything, I want her back.


End file.
